I let my gaze drift over him again. He hasn’t moved from the chair beside the bed, a silent sentinel. His shirt is still stiff with dried blood, dark stains covering the front and smeared across his forearms and hands. My blood. The realization twists my stomach in a painful knot.
Suddenly, I become painfully aware of how my own skin feels. Sticky. Tight. My hair clings heavily against my neck, clumped and stiff from the remnants of the fight. The faint metallic smell of dried blood clings to me, a grim reminder of the chaos. I swallow carefully, wincing when my throat protests against the movement.
“Hawk…” My voice is soft, barely above a whisper.
His head lifts immediately, as if he’s been waiting for me to speak. “Yeah, Trouble?”
“I feel… disgusting.”
His brows pull together, concern etched across his features. “You’re not disgusting.”
His voice is firm, immediate. “You’re alive.”
I shake my head slightly, a wave of frustration washing over me. “I can feel it,” I whisper. “The blood.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he studies my face, weighing whether I’m strong enough for what I’m asking. Then I say softly, “Will you take me to the shower?”
His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of hesitation. “You sure you’re steady enough to stand?”
I nod slowly, determination creeping into my voice. “I just… want it off.”
His chair scrapes quietly against the floor as he stands. “Alright,” he says gently, moving closer.
He slides one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. Before I can even protest, he lifts me easily into his arms. The movement sends a sharp pain through my ribs, and a small gasp escapes me.
Hawk freezes instantly, his expression shifting to one of concern. “Sorry,” he murmurs softly. “Easy, baby.” He adjusts his hold carefully, ensuring I’m not pressed against his chest.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring.
I nod weakly, grateful for his care.
He carries me into the bathroom attached to the medical room, pushing the door open with his shoulder. The shower is spacious, tiled in soft hues, with a bench along the wall. He sets me carefully on the edge of it, and I take a moment to breathe, the cool air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body.
Then he turns the water on, and steam begins to fill the room slowly as the water warms. Hawk tests the temperature with his hand before turning back to me. “Too hot?” he asks, his brow slightly furrowed.
I shake my head, a small smile creeping onto my lips at how considerate he is.
Without hesitation, he pulls his blood-stained shirt over his head and tosses it aside. There’s nothing charged about the movement—nothing suggestive. It’s practical, and I appreciate it. He steps into the shower with me, the warm water cascading over my shoulders, and I close my eyes immediately. The heat feels incredible against my skin, as if the night’s chaos is finally starting to wash away.
Hawk moves behind me. “Lean forward a little,” he murmurs, and I do, feeling his hands slide carefully into my hair. His touch is slow and gentle, and dark red water begins swirling down the drain almost immediately. I watch it disappear, a haunting reminder of what I’ve been through.
Hawk pours shampoo into his palm and works it through my hair with delicate movements, his fingers massaging my scalp in a way that feels both soothing and intimate. “Tell me if anything hurts,” he says quietly.
“It doesn’t,” I whisper, allowing myself to relax under his care.
More blood washes free from my hair, from my neck, from my shoulders. Hawk rinses it all away before grabbing a cloth andwetting it under the stream. “Let me clean the rest of it off you,” he offers, his touch impossibly careful as he wipes the dried blood from my arms.
He avoids every bruise, every tender spot, like he’s already memorized exactly where they are. When he reaches my throat, his movements slow. The bruises there are dark now, finger-shaped, and his jaw tightens at the sight.
But he says nothing. He simply dips the cloth back into the water and continues washing the blood from my skin. The tenderness in the moment makes something twist tightly in my chest. No one has ever taken care of me like this before. Ever.
The warm water runs over us quietly, creating a cocoon of comfort. “Hawk?” I whisper, hesitant.
“Yeah?”
I pause, searching for the right words. “That girl…”
His hands pause slightly on my arm, and I can feel the tension in the air. “The one from your office.”
